


Lend Me Your Hand

by allourheroes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-08
Updated: 2011-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has been away. Dean has been trying not to be too obviously worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lend Me Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Alejandra(catstiel on tumblr)'s birthday. The title is from "Awake My Soul" by Mumford and Sons. I'm not usually a fan of my own work, but I'm rather fond of this one.

Dean hadn’t seen Castiel in three weeks. He was starting to worry that something could have happened to him.

He didn’t tell Sam though. Sam would’ve said that he was so in love with Cas and that he needed to just calm down and call his boyfriend already. Despite the fact that both of those things were true, he hated when Sam made him feel like a thirteen-year-old girl. He was an adult man, damn it.

There was an awkward knock on Bobby’s door—Dean wasn’t sure why he’d describe it as awkward, it just…sounded off. Bobby was out, but he would’ve just burst in, it _was_ his house and all, and Sam was upstairs sleeping like a drunk baby. Grabbing a gun off of the kitchen table, he headed towards the door.

He peeked through the window and could see the edge of tan trench coat, he didn’t even think before opening the door. “Cas, where the hell have you been?”

The angel nearly fell over on him and he quickly ushered him to a seat at the table, setting the gun back down as he assured their current safety. “I landed a few miles away. I had to walk here.” His voice was quietly indignant, as if this fact was Dean’s doing.

Dean took a seat beside him, slightly taken aback at the angel’s attitude. “Um, okay. Why didn’t you just re-zap yourself here?”

“I’m too hungry.” He looked over at the refrigerator and back at Dean, who swore Castiel’s sad face could rival his brother’s.

But that didn’t seem right. “You’re an angel. I thought you didn’t need food like us people.” He eyed him cautiously, “We got rid of Famine, didn’t we?”

Castiel only sighed and continued looking pointedly between Dean and the refrigerator.

“Fine,” the Winchester shrugged, opening it up. “What do you want?” He looked towards the cabinets at the loaf of bread. “How ’bout a sandwich?”

“That sounds acceptable.”

Dean glared at the back of Castiel’s head as he proceeded to put something together for him. “So, uh, Cas?” He pulled out some things from the fridge—some deli meat, lettuce, a jar of pickles. “What’s with the sudden craving for people food?”

“It’s not for me.”

The Winchester paused. “Uh…huh.” He looked around to see if there was anything to save him from the crazy. “What?”

“It’s for the child.”

Dean turned to him, “Cas, man, you realize it’s just the two of us here, right?”

Castiel looked down at his stomach and back up at Dean, his gaze softer, “I’m carrying our child. It needs nourishment.”

After the sound of the crash as the jar hit the floor, Dean could only hear muffled, indiscernible chatter. He took a breath. “Cas…you…you’re a _dude_.” His boot crunched a piece of glass as he took a step forward, not taking his eyes off of his sort-of-boyfriend gone insane. “Do angels need lessons on human anatomy? Last time I checked, you seemed to know a lot about mine.” He nodded to himself, smirking at his own implication.

“That’s the problem, Dean.” He took a deep breath that Dean was now wondering worriedly if he needed. “I didn’t realize I was so…susceptible.”

“What are you saying, Cas?” He shook his head. “Are you sure you didn’t get hit over the head with a crow bar or something? You’re not making sense.”

Castiel’s eyes were sharp again, his nostrils flared. “Dean, I’m pregnant.” He reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling Dean along with it, to rest on his stomach. It wasn’t that noticeable, but it definitely wasn’t as flat as it had been before—Dean could remember running his hands over Castiel’s taut abdomen as he rode him in the backseat of the Impala. Now, that was a great time.

Dean stood there in shock for a moment before quickly pulling his hand away. “Dude,” he breathed, staring down at his hand as if its senses had betrayed him. He turned away again and began picking up the shards of glass from the floor.

Castiel sighed, a subtle sadness settling over his features, shoulders more slumped than usual, and walked past Dean to the refrigerator. He opened it up and pulled out a carrot—Sam must’ve bought them—and eyed it warily before biting into it. He tilted his head and his hand went to rest on his stomach as if waiting for a response as Dean watched from the linoleum.

He needed to finish cleaning up the glass before he blacked out on top of it. He wouldn’t faint. Fainting wasn’t manly.

The angel grabbed about six more carrots from the fridge before heading over to the couch in Bobby’s office, slouching down onto it and slowly eating them one by one.

Dean tossed the glass pieces, swept and wiped down the floor, and tried to find another thing he could concentrate on that was not an angel possibly pregnant with his child. It wasn’t working and he was beginning to panic, but there was usually an easy, sensible solution for that. He went to find Sam.

He was up the stairs leaning against a closed, locked door, knocking quietly but insistently. “ _Sam_ ,” he whispered as loudly as he could. “Sammy, come on. Sam.” He would’ve picked the lock, but the door gave way, pitching him forward about a foot into his brother’s lumbering form.

Sam looked tired and worried—but under that, definitely pissed. “What, Dean?” He wiped his hand down his face, rubbing his eyes, and trying to concentrate on his brother. He still stank like whiskey, but he was less drunk than he had been.

Dean pushed past him into the room, “It’s Cas.”

Sam began rolling his eyes, “Your angel boyfriend still MIA?”

“No.” Dean scoffed at him, although there was a little flutter in his stomach of relief that Castiel had returned. “He… Well, this is just gonna sound crazy.”

“He’s an angel. We’re hunters. I’m pretty sure you’re sleeping with him. What could sound crazy to me?”

Dean leaned towards him, eyes wide and bottom lip quivering as if unsure he should let the words spill out, “He said…he said…” Sam motioned for him to get on with it, shifting in impatience. “He said he’s pregnant.”

The sound was hearty and startling as the younger Winchester laughed. “He was probably fucking with you, dude.”

His brother squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, “He made me _feel_ it.”

The look on Sam’s face seemed vaguely disgusted, but he tried to hide it. “How?”

Dean shrugged, having said it to someone else made him feel like he really should have discussed it further with Cas first, “I…don’t know.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose questioningly, “Then, should you maybe go ask him…?”

Silently, Dean nodded, and started out the door, Sam patting him on the shoulder in encouragement before wearily crawling back towards the bed.

He could hear a voice softly speaking downstairs and followed it to its source. Cas was sat there on the couch, looking down at his stomach and smiling— _smiling_ —as he continued talking. “I don’t know what children like, but I know what Dean likes. You’ll probably be a lot like him, considering how strong you seem already. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dean eat carrots though—maybe, do you know what carrot cake is?”

Dean felt himself smiling now, too. He wrung his hands together, trying to figure out what he should say.

Before he could, Castiel looked up at him, his expression awed. “I’m sorry for…pushing this on you, Dean,” but as he spoke, he looked back down, smile never fading.

The older Winchester walked over and took a seat next to him, “Cas…how did it…? And how did you know? When did you know?”

The angel’s expression changes, thoughtful now. “I guess it was about a month ago that I began noticing signs.” Dean’s lips parted, about to interject—a _month_ was a long time, but Castiel shook his head at him. “I’ve never seen an angel pregnancy before, I’ve never even heard of one, really, especially concerning a male vessel. I didn’t know it was possible, until Balthazar and I spoke.” Dean’s hands had been resting on his thighs, but now they drew into fists. The angel stared down at them, comprehending the meaning. “He was very helpful to me when I was confused. He looked at me and said I was glowing. I proceeded to explain that he must know this wasn’t unusual considering it was something he did, as well, but he then told me it was different. That I was different.” Dean nodded, hand moving over to Castiel’s knee to grip it lightly. “It was his…research that diagnosed my condition.”

Dean’s eyes were locked on his belly. “How…far along is it?”

“It’s been about two months, but it seems to move along more quickly than a normal human gestation period. I believe it’s feeding on my grace.” Dean’s gaze darted up to his face, worry clear on his features. “It’s why I couldn’t land as accurately, but it doesn’t do any real harm.”

The Winchester’s hand moved without thinking, fingers drawing themselves up Castiel’s untucked shirt to his stomach. His fingertips grazed across the skin lightly and the angel seemed to quiver beneath his touch, he pressed his palm firmly to it. He couldn’t feel much, maybe some slight movement, but not really. It was a little bit disappointing, but it didn’t matter so much when he looked at Castiel’s face again, the surprise on his features. The _glow_.

-

Dean wasn’t sure how it happened, but he woke up to the sound of Bobby’s voice.

“What are you two idjits doing, don’tcha know there’s a bedroom upstairs?”

Castiel was still out cold, Dean spooning him, hand up Castiel’s shirt—resting on his belly possessively.

Bobby reached out to shake them, but Dean drew his hand out quickly and held it up, “I got it.” He blinked, eyes bleary, remembering Cas’s condition.

“What’s he doin’ sleepin’ anyway? Thought angels didn’t need that stuff,” he commented, beginning to walk towards the kitchen. “Sam’s making breakfast. I ain’t gonna save you some, so you best get your ass in there.”

He had no idea how he’d explain it to Bobby—although Bobby’d probably seen more in his days than he or Sam could imagine. He pushed gently at Castiel’s back, which was met with an annoyed groan, “Cas, come on. You should probably eat…or whatever.” He had to look away, still a bit befuddled. He had very little idea how pregnancies went, much less angel pregnancies.

He could feel the vibrations of the angel’s grumble against his chest. He pressed a kiss to Castiel’s neck smiling as Castiel began mumbling incoherently, then, “Smells good.”

“Smells like pancakes, does the baby like pancakes?” he spoke quietly, hoping not to be noticed until they wanted to be. Castiel sat up, wearily, supporting himself, his hands curling around the edge of the couch.

Castiel hummed. Dean couldn’t understand now why he hadn’t seen the difference immediately, that little Dean baby inside him oozing with humanity. He approved wholeheartedly of its influence as he watched Cas start moving towards the smell wafting from the kitchen. He shook his head, trying to wake up, before following his angel boyfriend.

When he got there, Cas was already sitting, staring lustfully at the stack of pancakes next to Sam’s elbow on the counter. At least he had a plate in front of him. Dean smirked and grabbed a fork from the silverware drawer, he stabbed it into the stack of pancakes, picking up several and plopping them down onto Cas’s plate. Sam may have been complaining.

Castiel immediately dug in, snatching the fork from Dean’s hand. The older Winchester smiled and turned around to meet Bobby’s concerned, confused face. “What? You wanna see an angel eat twelve pancakes in under two minutes?”

Bobby scoffed, Sam served the pancakes, ignoring the weirdness. They all gathered around the table, sat down and began eating. It was a few minutes later, when Cas was going in for more, that Bobby felt the need to speak up. “What in the hell is goin’ on with you boys? Why’s he eating?” Everyone was silent. “What’s the big secret?”

Dean looked to Cas then to Sam, whose lips thinned as he stared back at the two of them. “Well, uh.”

The angel interrupted him, barely swallowing down his last bite of dry pancake—Dean had offered him syrup, but he had shaken his head vehemently at the very idea. There was an audible gulping noise before he spoke, “Bobby, this may be difficult for you to understand, but I’m carrying Dean’s child.”

Bobby looked wary. “This is why you oughta use protection, but as long as you idjits are happy, more power to ya.” He dipped a bite of pancake into the pool of syrup on his plate and stuck it in his mouth.

The three of them looked to each other and mutually shrugged.

A month passed of them using Bobby’s as their home base as things were a little less than business as usual. Dean didn’t go out on as many hunts as before, and only those he knew he could make it back from within two days—or so he tried. Sam and Bobby were doing pretty well on their own, they were more careful than Dean usually was. Castiel had gone with them for the first week or so, but Dean had been too worried once he had been knocked down, which Dean, of course, blamed himself for.

Castiel was more drained by carrying the baby now, his “angel mojo” as Dean called it was for all intents and purposes, nonfunctional. His belly had swollen much larger, the baby feeding off of his grace and growing more quickly than a human would normally.

He’d get lonely when Dean was gone overnight, talking to his stomach and sleeping on the couch so he wouldn’t feel all of the empty space around him in the big bed upstairs. It was the third night in a row now. He’d taken a bath earlier, it seemed to soothe the baby and ease the stress his vessel was going through as the life inside him grew. His hair was still wet and he’d taken to wearing Bobby’s old stretched out shirts—mostly classic rock, to Dean’s delight—and Sam’s too-long pajama bottoms (as Dean didn’t own any), which he would curl his feet up into the bottoms of.

Dean tried to be as quiet as possible entering the house so as not to wake his very pregnant angel. He reached the edge of the stairs, ready to tiptoe up them and crawl into bed next to Castiel, when he heard a noise. He stopped and turned—sure, Cas could’ve gotten up for a midnight snack, and Bobby’s house was pretty secure, but you could never be too careful. When he reached the end of the couch and saw Castiel snuggled under a blanket, he wondered if he’d been waiting up for him to come home.

Dean reached out to touch the angel’s cheek, stopped by a firm grip on his wrist.

“Dean?” The hand let go, curling back in towards his body.

He smiled and kneeled next to him, “Hey. Miss me?”

Castiel frowned and even in the dark, Dean could feel his gaze boring holes through him. “Where have you been?” The anger in his tone was a bit surprising.

“Uh, you know, Cas, hunting evil sons of bitches, trying to make the world a little safer,” he tried to make it sound light, smiling, reaching his hand towards Castiel’s stomach, but the angel rolled away from him.

“Cas?” He tried to gently grab the angel’s shoulder and Castiel flinched away.

“You promised you’d be back yesterday,” he said, his voice even, almost unfeeling, but Dean could hear that little undercurrent of sadness, of worry.

Dean wrapped an arm around his tense form. “Hey, I’m here now. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

“No.” Stubborn. Possibly angry. Dean wasn’t exactly sure.

“Relax, Cas,” the angel shook his head, “It’s not good for the baby…”

Castiel’s shoulders slumped and he rolled onto his back. “I don’t like worrying, Dean.”

“I know, Cas.” He leaned in to rest his head on the angel’s swollen belly, he felt a thump. Immediately, he was up and crouched on his feet, staring at it in awe. “Hello,” he said to it, tentatively. His finger tapped on it gently. “How you doin’, little one?”

Castiel sighed, indignation fading as his own hands went to his stomach to feel. He hummed in satisfaction. “It’s as difficult as you are.”

Dean chuckled and ran his fingers over the stretched skin. He pressed his palm and ear to it. He could hear it, he could feel it. “Cas…”

The angel hummed in response, feeling the little Dean that had been growing in him.

“I…love you.” He swallowed. “And this,” he slipped his hand under the shirt and rubbed little circles into the flesh. He chuckled lightly, “Whatever this is.”

“I love you, too, Dean.” He sat up on his elbows and his hand moved to Dean’s, squeezing it through the shirt.

The Winchester pulled back, put his knee up on the edge of the couch and leaned over Castiel, hovering mere inches above him. “Cas,” he breathed, his eyes had adjusted and he could see a bit of the blue looking back up at him. Castiel pressed himself forward hungrily, capturing Dean’s lower lip between his teeth, to which Dean eagerly responded, crushing their mouths together, his tongue licking the angel’s mouth open. He tasted…fruity. Dean stopped.

“Did…did you have pie?” Castiel looked guilty for a second before nodding. “Awesome.” His lips pressed to Cas’s again, the angel’s tongue sweeping into his mouth to meet his. He didn’t realize he had crawled onto the couch until he was between Castiel’s legs, his erection bumping against his belly as he leaned forward. “Do you want—”

“Yes,” the angel replied, the question unnecessary as he awkwardly pushed the pajama pants down, lifting his hips. Dean took the cue to pull them down and off, quickly undoing his belt and his jeans, freeing himself from the constraint. He pushed up Castiel’s shirt to expose his belly and trailing kisses down it until he reached the angel’s cock, he ran his tongue over the head before swallowing down the length of it, causing Castiel to mewl and squirm as he began bobbing up and down on him. “Dean.” The Winchester pulled his mouth away, smiling.

Dean moved up his body. “Cas, I…”

The angel reached under the sofa, fumbling for a bottle of lotion and thrusting it into Dean’s hand. “Please.” Dean eyed it questioningly. Castiel’s face flushed hot, “I’ve had…needs.”

The Winchester smirked, slicking himself up. “I’m not gonna…hurt it, am I?” The angel shook his head and pressed himself up again towards the man. He took a lubed up finger and began rubbing at Castiel’s hole before slowly sliding it in, it was already slightly stretched and he pulled his finger away. “Cas?”

“I told you, I…” Dean kissed him again, careful of his stomach, and shifted forward, his dick pressing to the angel’s entrance. “Wait.” He turned himself over, offering his ass up towards Dean. Without immediate response, he waggled his hips impatiently. “I need you in me, Dean.”

The hunter’s breath hitched and he grabbed Castiel’s sides, sliding his cock in. It was amazing, just as it has always been, but now… Now he knew that it was bringing them something so magical, he knew he had to be careful not to fuck things up.

Castiel began moving on him, pushing himself against Dean’s dick over and over and over again. Dean moved with him in unison, causing him to hit deeper inside of Cas, and— “Oh,” Cas groaned, attempting to angle himself up for it again. His breathing was ragged and he was making little inhuman noises as they continued, Dean thrusting so deep he thought he might hurt him, but Cas would only slide back harder, needier. The man pressed his chest to the angel’s back, arms wrapping around him, running his hands over the angel’s stomach.

“Is this how we made that, Cas?” he murmured against angel’s neck, fingers trailing down to grip the base of Castiel’s cock and began jerking it with the rhythm of their thrusts.

Cas breathed, “Yes,” rolling his hips back against Dean’s dick. “And…” he tried continuing, but the sensations were overwhelming him. “Nh,” he tried to find something to grip onto, fucking back against Dean as hard as he could, “Dean, please, Dean, Dean, yes.” Dean could feel Cas getting close, his movements erratic as he attempted to get as much of Dean as he could into him, before a scream loud enough to wake the neighbors—and quite possibly the dead.

The feeling of Castiel pulsing around his dick sent Dean over the edge, spilling into Cas, his hand covered in the angel’s stickiness. He caught his breath, Castiel beginning to sag underneath him as he pulled out.

The angel turned back over and sat up. Dean stood up, staring at him. Beautiful. The couch was a mess, however. And so were they.

After a quick shower, they tumbled into the bed upstairs and Castiel remembered how nice sleeping in a bed was when there was someone make you feel safe. The thought seemed ridiculous to him at first, but it made sense. With the baby taking away most of his powers, he couldn’t do much to protect it, or himself, but Dean was there now. The man’s warm hands clutching Castiel and his stomach as if that would shield them from any possible dangers.

The baby would be a little bit of both of them, he could feel it.

-

Dean didn’t go out on another hunt for a while, having had Castiel sob the morning after his return about how fearful he’d been of something happening—of the baby not knowing him, of having it as the only tangible reminder of their love. It’d been too sappy for him, but that look on Castiel’s face was enough to make him promise he wouldn’t go out hunting again for a while. Hopefully until Castiel was strong enough to join him again, given that the danger was minimal.

When Sam and Bobby returned a few days later, Bobby had gone straight to the kitchen. Sam, unfortunately had gone to the bathroom upstairs to freshen up only to witness some shower sex he didn’t particularly want to think about. He told Bobby to make some extra sandwiches because they would probably be hungry and sat down in the kitchen trying to forget.

He was sort of happy for them, but still…a baby? That was _weird_.

-

Two more weeks passed like nothing and Castiel was brimming with the new life. After the angel had replaced the bacon in his BLT with chocolate, to which Dean scoffed and told him bacon was a vegetable and a necessary part of a human diet, Sam felt like a talk was necessary.

“Guys,” he looked at the two of them, noting his brother’s hand rubbing idle circles on Castiel’s seemingly ever-larger stomach, “how’s it going?”

“Good, Sammy,” Dean was beaming. He knew he should’ve been a little more subtle, but, damn it, he was going to be a _dad_. To some sort of angel-human hybrid, which was somewhat frightening, but the fact that it was his and Cas’s? Yeah, that definitely made up for it.

“So, I gotta ask,” he started, eyeing Dean’s hand as it went for Castiel’s, “are you two planning on staying…together? I just mean…well, Dean, you don’t have the best history.” Sam didn’t mean it to come out like that, but he wanted to know.

Dean squeezed Cas’s hand reassuringly, “Know what, Sam? Yeah. For the first time in my life…” He looked down, realizing how inappropriate a time it was for his mind to be whispering _no chick flick moments_ , and continued on, “He sacrificed everything for me, for us, Sammy. And I guess I really didn’t get it at first, and I was careless, but…he kept coming back. He died for me. He’s gone through hell—literally, to save me. I just…” _Love him._ But it was hard to say and he had said it to the person that counted. It didn’t need to be repeated.

His brother nodded his head and looked to Cas, only to think over Dean’s words again. Yeah, Cas was definitely there for Dean, no matter what. His gaze lingered from Castiel’s face and drifted down to his swollen stomach. “So, I guess it’s not impossible,” he found himself saying.

“And you get to be the cool uncle, Sammy—teaching the little one how to make smoke bombs and climb trees.” Dean grinned and Castiel’s eyes darkened.

“The fact that those two things are so relatable in your head makes me realize how much any kid of _yours_ will need me. No offense, Cas.” He shrugged. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe.

The angel’s voice broke in, “Do you—” he hesitated, “do you wish to touch it?”

The younger Winchester was surprised at first, and, honestly, somewhat confused, but he reached forward, his large palm settling tentatively on Castiel’s burgeoning belly. He felt it move—whatever _it_ was—and pulled his hand away for a second, shocked. He placed it flatly back down and could feel the murmurs of life twisting around inside the angel.

He still didn’t get how it worked, but that didn’t matter. He was going to be an uncle.

-

Castiel was so large and so close to the end of the pregnancy now that even Bobby was helping him with whatever he needed, whether he actually asked for it or not. He was constantly bringing him water or juice—which he bought special for the occasion—or helping the angel back to his feet while at the same time constantly urging him to rest. Dean was pretty sure Bobby was just an eager grandpa and that fact just made him utterly joyful.

He was worried, however, as Castiel grew bigger and bigger, how this whole birth thing was going to happen. When he’d gotten up the nerve to ask Castiel though, he felt like an idiot. Basically, the angel’s grace would push the baby out, transporting it outside of his body when it felt ready. Dean was relieved, even though Castiel would still go through labor pains as the child figured its way out.

When it did, all of them were there. Sam and Bobby almost as worried and impatient as the parents. The pain Castiel went through was monumental—between his weakened state and a child with angelic strength trying to find its way out of him, Dean was ready to snap, until, finally, it happened.

Their fucked up family had a new member and yet another reason to save the world.


End file.
